


Terra Subter Mare

by LadyStarwing, Nosferatank



Series: Churning Earth [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avatar Born a Dragon, Childhood of the Zoologically Dubious, Dragons, Eldritch Abominations, Gen, Lovecraftian, Manaketes, Puking Baby Dragons, Vallite Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStarwing/pseuds/LadyStarwing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferatank/pseuds/Nosferatank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra Subter Mare: Latin - Seafloor, literally "ground beneath the ocean".</p><p>The split of a dragon god's mind has consequences.</p><p>Some of those consequences are alive.</p><p>(Prologue to Churning Earth)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epipelagic

**Author's Note:**

> boy howdy do i love Fate’s generation zero characters. Arete really needs more love  
> one comment = -1 day till next update
> 
> [Written by Nosferatank, with some liberal headcanon ping-pong from Ladystarwing]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epipelagic- of, relating to, or constituting the part of the oceanic zone into which enough light penetrates for photosynthesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp welcome to the Big AU™. Some things to be aware of for this:
> 
> The royal families of Nohr, Hoshido, and Valla,due to having blood-pacts with the dragon gods, do retain quite a few draconic features. This is part of why this is seriously an AU.  
> As for descriptions, Nohr family resembles traditional dragons: that is, scaly. There are darker plated scales along arms and legs, and smaller ones dotting the edges of the face. There’s the uniform draconic features, such as slit pupils, claws, pointed ears, and sharp teeth. Females of the House of the Dusk Dragon sport small, sharp horns: Camilla being the primary example.
> 
> Hoshido royals, by contrast, are exceedingly feathery, with a ruff extending from their neck to back to upper arms, and a feathery crest resembling a secretary bird’s. They also have the claws, teeth, slip pupils, ect. 
> 
> Valla royals are glassy, with scales that shift like water. The horns are small and spiraling, vinelike, and are present in all sexes. Most have vestigial gills, weak and shallow. They have the standard draconic trappings of teeth, claws, slit pupils, and pointed ears, of course.
> 
> ANYWAYS, this will show up in churning earth, so it’s Important.

Queen Arete despised politics.

However, she must acknowledge that it was political maneuvering that allowed her the distinct pleasure of foisting the bureaucratic nonsense onto her husband, Matsya, and the Parliament while she took a much-deserved vacation to see her sister. Really, the country wouldn’t fall apart in her absence, and young Azura would benefit from the quiet as opposed to the bustle of Gyges.

Arete’s departure wasted no time, mounting her pegasus destrier after giving the Brionac Spear to Matsya, and setting out with only four Falcoknight guards, Azura nestled to her breast. At the very least Arete could get some silence for once, even with the repetitive sound of thrumming wingbeats echoing into her pointed ears.

The queen did feel some trepidation leaving with the legendary spear behind, particularly in the hands of one who could not actually wield it. However, it was the a symbol of Anankos’s blessing and the divine right to rule, a lynchpin of Gyges. How could Valla trust in the judgement of a ruler, though he cannot manipulate the Dragon Veins, if he could not at least hold the physical promise given to the First King Ryurei? Thus, to stabilize the court in her absence, Arete left the spear behind with her husband.

She much preferred magecraft anyways.

\---

Glaucon was fairly small as far as private royal retreats go, keeping only four bedrooms, a kitchen, a few sitting rooms, and a center courtyard garden. One of her ancestors, Makaidos she believed his name was, built it with privacy, and if need be, secrecy, in mind. Thus, it was similarly staffed: only a minimal amount of servants and a few guards were present. An excellent place for visiting family if Arete thought so herself.

After landing with a soft jolt, Arete dismounted, keeping careful grip on her daughter, and turned around to see Mikoto already waiting for her. The sisters each gave a short bow to the others, before Arete waved at the Falcoknights to return home, as she had no luggage: there were supplies enough here, and really aside from her tomes she had little she cared to bring. Formalities now aside, Mikoto strode forward and hugged her sister fiercely, but not before snagging Azura, who was already reaching for her aunt.

“Ah, betrayed by my own child. I never thought the day would come.” Arete said ruefully, watching as Mikoto wiggled her claws for baby Azura to grab.

“Well, perhaps she tires of the same arms for hours” Mikoto looks up from playing with her niece. “How was your journey anyways? Boring as expected?”

Arete snorted in a rather unqueenly manner “Please. The silence was gratifying: at least the Falcoknights know better than to hem and haw and pester when there’s a job to be done.”

“Now if we may, I’m a bit peckish and I daresay your niece is as well. Shall we?”

“Oh, I already had the kitchens prepare something for you!”

“Perhaps I could sleep too. Ancients know I’ve not been getting enough of it lately.”

\---

Arete’s leave of absence was just as calm and blissfully predictable as she could have hoped. She would dine with her blood-family, walk or ride with her sister, read, and receive messenger hawks from Gyges, proving that her work would never be far behind her (Arete was sure she would be dreaming of triplicate soon). The queen even had time to devote to researching and altering Hoshidan spell-tablets: she couldn’t exactly experiment with native Vallite song-weaving, not with her bloodline.

Arete opens her second week at Glaucon with a face-full of feathers as she opens her window, birds flapping past her face to settle on the perch next to her work desk. Grimacing, she retrieves and opens the paper from the messenger hawk closest to her, unfolding it to reveal-

Oh dear.

 _Taxes_.

\---

The door to the queen’s study opens softly, and Mikoto enters, one dark brow questing to reach beyond her black fringe as she takes note of her sister: Valla’s queen, pouring over a paper-obscured desk, with a messenger hawk perched on the back of her seat preening her hair and tapping on her thin horns.

Not precisely the position Arete expected to be in during her vacation, but the First Dragons work in mysterious ways.

Before her sister could remark upon the (in retrospect) rather odd scene, Arete cleared her throat and broke the bad news. “I’m afraid I will be unable to join you on our jaunt with the pegasi. As you can see, I leave for a few weeks and the castle starts to trip over itself.”

“Oh well then. Enjoy your workday, sister dear” Mikoto replies, one eyebrow still damnably raised. It finally lowered when the princess probed “I hope nothing went too wrong. You will be able to stay, right?”

“No, nothing they can’t handle themselves it seems. Besides, it would do them good to be weaned off of my support, at least for a while.” Arete complained, briefly taking her eyes off of the workload to glance at her sister, calling “Enjoy your ride!” as Mikoto gently shut the door behind her, leaving her beleaguered sister to fight the devils that called themselves ‘paperwork’.

Arete did worry a bit for her sister: even though the retreat was fairly isolated, and thus safe from intruders, by that very same isolation should an accident happen there will be little chance of help. She briefly pondered having a single guard follow her, but knowing her sister’s prowess in the air the chances of the guard being able to follow her were slim. Mikoto would be fine.

She’d be less bored than Arete was anyways.

\---

Arete woke up to the door to her study slamming open and then shut in quick succession, hastily wiping aways the drooling evidence of her nap. Blinking away the grit from her tired eyes, the blurs in her office resolved into her sister, still in riding gear, and a man in a white cloak, the hood pulled so far down she could hardly see his nose.

While keeping a wary eye on the stranger, the queen pinned her sister with a look demanding answers, grinding out “Mikoto. Why did you bring someone we presumably don’t know to the private royal retreat?”

“I can explain-“ Mikoto rushed.

“Wait.” Arete commanded, before wheeling to point at the man whose oddly-jointed hand snatched back from the spine of a book. “What is your name, and what is you business this close to private property?”

“Well, I. Um. Don’t remember be name? My apologies if I was trespassing, I just woke up in the lake.”

A flimsy reason certainly, and Arete was on the verge of saying so when her vision caught up with her mind. The cloaked stranger had raised his hand to sheepishly scrub at his head, the sleeves rolling up to reveal faint grey scales spotting his arm: too wide and thick and metallic to belong to a Vallite royal. This and the flash of double-rowed fangs Arete spotted while he was apologizing sealed it.

 _Manakete_.

Upon realizing this, Arete turned her attention back to Mikoto to hiss out a pertinent question.

“Where did you _find_ him?’

Her sister hurriedly babbled her tale: “Well, I was flying our usual route when i spotted him facedown in the lake; I thought him dead before I approached and he started flailing to shore. I saw what you likely just did, among other things, and made the executive decision to take him home. Besides, I couldn’t just leave someone sopping wet in the wilderness with no memories, dragon or no.”

Arete was almost too afraid to ask. “Among other things?”

Mikoto turned to the glacier-still manakete in the corner, muttering to him “Friend, if you would lower your cowl? there is no one else here.”

The dragon simply nodded his acknowledgement, raising hands to remove the hood.

Five interconnecting red eyes blinked back at Valla’s High Queen, who suddenly felt a bit faint.

“Well that certainly is… interesting.” Arete finally exhaled after a few awkward moments of watching the eyes blink at her unsettlingly. Despite the naked curiosity and haze of confusion in them, something about looking at the manakete’s full face made her feel small.

Like prey.

“Right. Ahem. Now then.” she stalled, calling upon the unflappable demeanor she had cultivated as queen. “If you don’t remember your name, we need to call you by something. Would Hydra be agreeable? It is an old Vallite name, from when your era likely was.”

The newly-christened Hydra pondered at the bookshelf before nodding absentmindedly and saying “Yes, yes, that sounds about right.” and said nothing else, his multitude of eyes raking through the tome titles, some going in nauseatingly opposite directions.

Mikoto spoke up in the empty pause. “Why don’t we all sleep? I’ll take Hydra to a guest room, instruct the servants not to enter. Sister, you look like you are carrying lakes beneath your eyes. Rest, your work can wait.”

“Hm. Well, that does sound appealing. But next time, sister dear, alert me when you bring dragons into the house.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Mikoto flung behind her shoulder, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere before humming “Good night, sister. Sleep well”; a farewell that Arete returned.

She did not.

She slept with visions of frigid and sunless ocean depths, something huge and flickering in and out of perception that pierced her skull with pain to follow. Unintelligible glacier-words emerging from behind teeth that grinned like mountains.

͎̠ͣ̎͑̃ͣ̂[̙̹̰̥̳̈́ͮ͌s̤̞ͩ̌͊͗͘ι̛̻͕͔̼ℓ̭̌̉̌ͣ̆͗ε͒͑η͋̔c͌ͭε̼̫͌ͯ̓͜]͍̜͚̪̺̠̌ͫ͌̎̏̚͜ ̥̲̽̏̌ͦͭͦ̿͡

͔̦̣̗ͯͅ[̧̪̦͚̣͖̰͉͒̓α͓̃̏ηͤ͂̉ͥ∂̫̞̜̤̌]̠̼̥͍̦̠̫ ̗̦͕̒̒̏͒̍ͭ

[ͪ̈́̿҉͖͚в͍̮͙͔̩̠͂ͯ̏ͤ̿͑̀ℓͧ́̒͋ͭ̊͘σ̨̼͕̤̰͎̬̆͐̆σ̗͕̺̝̗ͬ̐͒̾̍̽̉́∂̟̌̌ͧͭͨ̀͟]̠̭̲̺ͭͯ

She woke with the sensation of frigid deep-water running through her veins, darkness and light-motes in the corner of her eye.

Arete moved to wipe her nose, and her hand came back red with blood.


	2. Mesopelagic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mesopelagic- The ocean's twilight zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragons, particularly the incredibly ancient (likely the species/tribe progenitors) ones like Anankos or Naga are more in line with eldritch abominations as opposed to reptiles that are completely visible in the human perception of dimensions. 
> 
> I could not kill of Arete’s husband, mostly for smoothing over character interaction (is this anti-fridging?) because I’m reasonably sure as soon as she figured out hydra was anankos, the dragon who killed her husband, she’d kill him. no questions asked.
> 
> Additionally, you might recognize someone here, if you've read a previous fic.

There really wasn't that much blood, really. Just enough to be a nuisance. Arete simply wiped it off before moving to her office to attend to her leftover work from yesterday before the interruption.

The queen found said interruption intruding in her workspace, hissing wordlessly at an angry messenger hawk while he stooped protectively over a stack of books he filched from her library.

Arete sighed the sound of a woman prepared for the day to be over with already. “Hydra, please leave the hawks alone. You can take the books, just please return them in good condition.”

The manakete nodded ( _his hood is up, thank the void_ ), absconding quickly, accompanied by a disturbing lack of footstep noises. Locking her door, Arete took a moment after calming the hawk down to examine the empty spaces marking where Hydra pilfered the tomes. From what she could remember, the ones he took were mostly ancient history. Perhaps he was trying to remember? Banishing thoughts of Hydra from her mind, she turned to the message the hawk had delivered; a letter from her husband, but with the wax seal of Valla’s Steward as opposed to more personally penned letters.

This boded ill.

Breath held, Arete dug her short claws under the seal to pry it open and examined the contents thoroughly. The news was dire.

Lord Anankos had rampaged again, this time killing three acolytes and injuring a dozen more. In accordance to the dragon god’s request that they lock him should he loose control again, Arete was called to perform the Song, the main force behind the spell that would seal him away. Hopefully, Matsya had added, long enough for Anankos to regain his senses, should it be within years or centuries.

Arete knew better. She had read the personal Vallite histories of the Twelve Ancients and the Dragon War. All examples from the past were clear on one thing.

There were no cases of dragon tribe progenitors regaining their minds once they fell to the Insanity. Matsya was likely the last human to see the water god in his natural state of mind.

Arete only took a few short moments to say farewells to her sister before flying off to Gyges, accompanied by two of the four guards of Glaucon. She reluctantly left Azura behind; despite how separation from her young heir pained her, should anything go catastrophically wrong, staying at the home with Mikoto was the safest place she could be.

The queen, just before the sealing ritual, found the god… lacking. His presence diminished, somehow smaller and more solid, as opposed to the water-like quality of rippling scales, fading in and out of human perception. The shifting expanse of the sphere in his mouth, previously outlines with parallel lines that intersected, impossible to look at directly without bleeding eyes, was dull and unmoving. Washed-out carmine eyes followed her movements as she inhaled, preparing to Sing.

 _This will be a mercy_ , she thought.

\---

Isolde prided herself as being on top of the best gossip in Glaucon. For whatever it was worth, since there were only a few other servants, limited to herself, two others, the cook, and two guards. Frankly, the arrival of Queen Arete and her daughter was the most interesting thing to happen here in years. Really, Lord Anankos’s increasingly clouded mind was a popular topic among most of the servants isolated here, but Isolde was more interested in the lives of people.

Such as the stranger Lady Mikoto brought back from her ride, merely a day before the queen’s sudden departure.

Despite the festering desire to know _everything_ that went on in Glaucon, Isolde, for once, felt slightly unsettled pursuing new and fresh topic. Hydra, as he was being called, unsettled her deeply for reasons she couldn’t quite place. Oh, he was harmless enough, even with his cowl never rising above his nose. She even spied him in the garden, holding Princess Azura while Lady Mikoto was busy, humming a tune the servant had never heard before. Not precisely the image of someone to be feared.

Isolde was not fooled.

Or, at least, her instincts were not. She had an eye for detail that only rumor-mongers shared, and she knew a scaly, sea-brine smelling person for what they really were.

A dragon.

Not that this stopped Isolde from snooping whenever she could. Oh, yes, Hydra’s presence seemed large and heavy, despite his relatively small stature, but not even an ancient apex predator could block Isolde’s warpath to information. So the servant did what she best. She watched, and waited for something new to break the monotony.

\---

In the coming months, Isolde discovered having a dragon living at the hidden royal retreat was quite a few leagues more boring than she expected. Even the cook, Tethys, had gotten used to more raw fish worming its way into her beloved dishes. This, Isolde mused, was unfortunate: Tethys was a minuscule devil of a woman, sharp and ruling with her ladle as a dictator would wield their scepter. That she had actually acquiesced to the horrors of raw food exiting her domain was near proof the world was to break apart (Isolde didn’t have the heart to tell her that raw fish was essential in some Hoshidan delicacies).

She was also the servant most interested in Isolde’s gossip, and might even be considered a friend. If the price for conversing with her was to listen to her infinite complaints, Isolde was more than willing to acquiesce.

As she paced towards the kitchens to hear her friend’s latest woes, Isolde passed a sight that was becoming increasingly common: Lady Mikoto, with her niece in her lap, playing the fastest game of chess the servant had ever seen, Hydra’s webbed hands keeping up with her smooth movements, but still never able to best the princess. Isolde simply moved on, she had other destinations in mind. Besides, with the increasing amount of time Lady Mikoto was spending with Hydra, the sight became far less interesting to Isolde.

Before reaching the kitchens, Isolde was called aside by a rather smudgy-looking Lancer guard: apparently they needed help redirecting the pipeline from the primary well to an older, smaller well. When she asked why, the guard heaved his shoulders in a perplexed shrug before stating that “For some reason that well started spouting up seawater; didn’t even know until the soup was way too salty.”

He shivered minutely. “I’d hate to be in the room when Miss Tethys found out. I’m quite fond of all my limbs being attached to me, you see.”

Isolde had one of her most fantastic ideas yet: she bargained out of physical labor, making the young guard do her portion of well-herding in exchange for keeping Tethys out of their vicinity. The guard readily agreed, the relief of not having to face Glaucon’s deadliest ( _deadliest human, anyways_ ) while fixing her well.

\---

The months continued as monotonously as Isolde had feared they would, though plagued by a few . . . unnatural incidences. The well soon returned to its usual freshwater offerings, with no trace of what made it sea-brine in the first place. Just a few days ago it felt as if gravity intensified immensely, bearing down on the shoulders of everything that lived at Glaucon.

Regardless, Isolde was over the moon. She had, just last night, been in the perfect place to witness Lady Mikoto take Hydra into her rooms. Now, the servant acknowledged that it could be anything, perhaps they simply wished to take tea together (privately) or sharpen themselves on board games, but Isolde had risen before the sun the next morning just to see for herself.

Unable to resist waiting in silence, Isolde crept up and carefully placed her ear to the door, filtering in the legible parts of her lady’s conversation with the dragon.

“Mikoto, I truly do think you should write your sister.”

“That sounds like an awful idea.”

“Perhaps I’m being selfish, and just don’t wish to be in the same room with her when you tell her.”

“Hmm. I will admit she can be a bit… overprotective at times. I’ll think about it.”

“That she can be.”

A few moments of silence persisted, Isolde straining to catch the lingering ends of the exchange.

“…”

“Would you be impartial to doing it again?”

A flustered, hissing sputtering echoed from the manakete.

Isolde, feeling a bit flustered herself, left soon after hearing Lady Mikoto add the quip: “I love you dearly, but you need some... practice.”

“Please refrain from touching my gills, then I will consider it.”

"Oh, but how was I to know they were more sensitive than mine?"

Isolde knew everything possible about everyone in this retreat.

But this was shaping up to be something larger than she could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know for being one of the big focuses of this, anankos doesn’t get many lines does he. Anyways, poor dude is a bit oblivious to the power incontinence thats causing everyone grief. Also writing Mikoto with some snark is the best.
> 
> And did you really think mikoto and anankos’s first time would be nice fanfic stuff nah son he’s awful at it. He’s both a dragon and the World’s Oldest Virgin i don’t think it would be anything to write home about).


	3. Bathypelagic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathypelagic-from Greek βαθύς (bathýs), deep – (also known as midnight zone) is the part of the pelagic zone that extends from a depth of 1000 to 4000 meters (3300 to 13000 feet) below the ocean surface. It lies between the mesopelagic above, and the abyssopelagic below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if insane!anankos’s name is hard to read at first, unfortunately there’s not much a way to flip the capital A upside-down with my current resources. Ah well, I’ll just call it artistic license and move on.

Queen Arete slammed the letter onto her desk, causing the hawk that delivered it to give her what she deemed a judging look.

Arete attempted to compartmentalize what she knew, simplify it.

There had been a few unexplainable events at Glaucon.

The guards needed to be cycled out for fresh ones.

Her sister was six months with child. (It had been children, the letter noted, but one was stillborn, and the egg had been stillborn. the _egg_.)

From a dragon.

Arete despaired at the recklessness of it. They weren’t even wed, Hydra had no family and nothing to his name but the clothes on his back. Their child would have a hard childhood in the light of royalty, particularly if they took after their father’s. . . less than conventional draconic appearances. The queen was slightly warmed, though, at Mikoto’s request she be there as a midwife: there were few her sister could trust in this . . . predicament. The letter also took note of Hydra; he was jittery and nervous and in awe of the thought of a child.

He was also wrecking the rooms trying to build an appropriate nest for his family.

However, since her sister expressed inexperience with pregnancy ( _especially with another species, what was she **thinking**_ ), she requested the queen come back to Glaucon for at least one month. Arete readily agreed, this was something she had to see for herself, and she did dearly miss Azura, however safe she knew her daughter was there.

Setting about her daily routine, pointedly trying not to think about what could go wrong with a manakete’s birth from a human holding a blood-pact, Arete moved to speak with Matsya. If she was to be gone for such a long time, he needed to know, and Arete felt it was best to tell him the truth. The whole truth.

He took it surprisingly well, despite having no precursor to the event. Of course, the man’s impossibly even-keeled disposition made him a far better negotiator, particularly with the Parliament.

Thus, the queen packed as much work as she could for the next three months, leaving one month after conspicuously empty.

She hoped, viciously, that the Parliamentarians would turn themselves inside-out in their confusion over a second vacation month.

Arete thought she earned it, all things considered.

——————-

Three months flew by faster than Arete had expected, but a busy mind does not dwell on the future. However, with the day of her arrival to Glaucon rising with the sun, she had the idle time while flying to contemplate. Was her sister healthy? The child? Had the staff found out? If they did, were they trusted to keep their mouths shut?

Arete sometimes wished that Valla’s native pegasi were a few leagues faster.

It only took a few hours more for her to touch down at Glaucon, despite her worrying. The queen felt welcome seeing her sister, wary spotting Hydra lingering behind a heavily-pregnant Mikoto, and an unbearable mix of joy and loss after hearing of Azura’s first crawl, which she missed.

While Mikoto wobbled back into the retreat, Hydra hung back, silently offering his arm in an old Vallite greeting between allies. Arete reciprocated the silent gesture, feeling the ridges of wide scales beneath his sleeve.

“I ask of you,” She evenly began. “How do you care for this child?”. She tightened her calloused grip on his arm minutely, claws leaving divots in the fabric of his cloak. But his unnaturally cold, webbed hand did not move a fraction.

All five eyes focused directly on the queen, the manakete replied “I would shatter continents for them, should it be necessary.”

Arete released her grip on his arm, breaking the greeting so they could move inside. She appraised the rather short dragon with a critical eye, finding the conviction she saw acceptable.

——————-

As the gods would have it, Arete had arrived at the perfect moment.

Not two days after setting foot here, Mikoto started the early stages of birth that Arete knew well, both from her all-encompassing tutelage as a Valkyrie and from her own personal experience. After promptly kicking Hydra out, she settled her sister in for the long haul and reminded her of the ways to ease the process.

It ended up being the shortest birth Arete had ever witnessed, lasting only five hours. Hydra was present for the last hour or so: her efforts in keeping him out seemed futile, as he always reappeared near-soundless just moments after she shut the door behind him. So he watched as Arete held out to catch her sister’s child. After hastily wrapping it in blankets and passing it on to Hydra, she ran her staff over Mikoto, refreshing her and strengthening any weakness left from the birth. She then moved to take the child from Hydra, to see-

It’s a dragon

“It’s a dragon.” she said, dumbly.

“It’s to be expected, since the father is a dragon.” Mikoto’s muffled voice piped from the bed, the princess already sitting up.

“Well.” Arete fumbled. “I had expected them to look more like. Well. Human-shaped.”

“I think you misunderstand.” Hydra spoke up, holding his child while their gangly legs paddled as if looking for water, their flopping wings slapping him on the side of his head. “The form you see me in now is more of an artificial construct maintained with a dragonstone. In all likelihood I looked much like her when I was a hatchling.”

“Oh.” Arete swallowed. “Wait. She? How can you tell?”

“Oh, yes. See these spines on her back? Only females have them. To deter egg thieves, if I remember correctly.”

Compartmentalizing the best she could, Arete moved on to a more important subject.

“What will you name her, then? And what does she eat?”

“She will likely eat raw fish. She’s far too small for whales at this age. As for the name…” He gazed over to Mikoto, deferring to her on the subject of a name, then setting his daughter down on the bed with her mother. Arete made a distinct effort not to imagine how large her niece would get, if whales were to be a part of her regular adult diet.

“Terra.” Mikoto responded, somewhat breaking the absurdity of the situation. She said nothing else, and the name was right, felt final.

“Terra, then.” Arete repeated as she watched Terra try to stand up on the bed, fail, and then lie down, content to gnaw on the bedpost for now.

A heavy sloshing sound interrupted whatever thoughts they may have had, and Arete swore as she remembered the bath she was running to clean up everyone after the birth (there was a curious lack of blood, now that she thought of it). Terra heard it first however, and launched herself off the bed with a tangle of ungainly limbs, hitting the ground skidding towards the bath; not before her oversized wings banged into the doorframe, though.

Arete entered the bathing room just in time to see Terra, not content with her first hour of terrestrial life, claw up the side of the tub and tip into it with a tremendous splash. The queen nearly slipped on the puddles as she rushed to the edge of the tub, only to peer over the side and see her niece completely submerged, gills undulating and blowing bubbles through her snout.

Mikoto was snickering in the pointed way siblings do, and Hydra was chuckling along with her.

Arete gave in, and she laughed to the sound of bubbles being blown in the tub.

————

Mikoto had finally managed to get her daughter out of the tub and wrapped in the bedcovers, stating “Well, I think that was more than enough excitement for today.” before mashing her face into her pillow, snoring almost instantly. Hydra smiled fondly, and moved to join them. Arete, sensing this was not her place, moved to her own quarters, but not before instructing the servants that they were under strict orders to not enter her sister’s rooms.

And that presented another problem.

The staff.

She could easily have them swear silence, but even that was a shaky option. Thus came the technique, tried and tested through generations upon generations of politicking.

Bribery.

The guards were under sworn duty to herself and Lord Anankos, but telling them their families would be well cared for in their absence couldn't hurt. Isolde was a snoop and a sneak, but even she had her weaknesses. Threatening to tell Tethys that Isolde went back on an oath was underhanded, but would get the job done better than anything short of pain of death. Tethys herself would really be satisfied with compete freedom to cook what she wanted all the time, and some restocked herbs from Izumo would tighten her tongue.

Shortly before going to bed, the queen wrote the orders for the guards’ families and the various herbs and spices for Tethys. After sending them off, she retired for the night, exhausted.

She dreamt peacefully, here.

——————

A̒̐҉̮̥̲̩ụ̷̜̂͌ͥͭ̅ɐ͍̳̫͈̓ͮ̐̓̐ͧ̃u̪͐̆ͨ̎ͪ͞ʞ͎̭͇͕̖͐ȍ̮͙ŝ̶̟̜͈͔̀̾̓̔̒ͯ soundlessly roared at his prison, raging at the magic for keeping his consciousness from his body, denying him the sensation of mountains beneath his claws, hurricanes at his diving wake.

They sawed off Ą̴̷̬̬͍̅ͥů͉͜ɐ̧͉͐̅͊͛ͤ̓̈́u̢̬̰ͤ̆ʞ̡̱̰̭͖͗̅̋̓͂o̫̟̰̳ͨͯ̊͟s͗̈̊̿ͪ̌’s horns.

They were to die.

Ȃ͍̱̱͐͆́́ŭ͚̫̜̯̹̌̃͠ɐ͕̟̖̩̅̐̅̄́͛́u̪̠͍ʞ̏̄̊̒͠o̥͇s̙͆̉́͢ was formless, his mind wandering unattached through the void. But A̛̺̫ͮͧ̂̀͂̔̔̑̓u͚͊̿̿ɐ͉u̝̰̗ͬͫ̾͂̉͡ʞ̺͎̜͖̜̗̔͌̍͢ơ̜̱̭͈ͤ̀ͩ̑̚ṡ̮̻͇ was old, he knew the navigations of the spaces between realms. He remembered the times when The Twelve first rose, when the earth was but water and ice and dust. He knew where the rivers of Dragon Veins lead, where they flowed. All A̔̆̈̆ͣ̒͏̘͉͇̞̗͇̱̦̲͢u̢̪̯̘̣̿ͤ̃ɐ̪͔͔͍ͭ͌ͬͤ̂ͨͤ͞u̬̟̪̭̹͗̿́͢ʞ͙̝̲̄ͮ̎͛̐͠ͅo̤͓͑͛s͉̩̘̜͉͙̫͒ͩ̽́̂ͥ would have to do was nudge them to the surface, undoing the stability he gave Valla in times of old, before mortal life began. It would only take a touch, even from his hideously weakened physical body.

If there were any scents in the void,A̔̆̈̆ͣ̒͏̘͉͇̞̗͇̱̦̲͢ǘ̴̺̹̟͐́̑ɐ̗̊̿u̯͓ͪ͘ʞ̳͍̼̦̈́̒̀o͙̜͛̀͋ͣ͗ͯͨ̕s̭͒̍ͯ would have smelled of blood and brine as his power and mind moved.

They were _his_ Veins

A̵͚̦͕̟̠̍ͭ͞ų͆̔̄ͦɐ̎̊u͙̲̟̹̣̝͌̿̏ʞ̱̼͚̼͈̱ͮͪ͂ͪ̚ͅo̧̟͉̪ͦ̔s̝̒̾ͭ had created Valla.

A̵͚̦͕̟̠̍ͭ͞u̙̳͙̱̖͊ͮ͆ͪ̓ͦ́͢ɐ̧̨̉͒̽҉͖͈̗͔̯ų̛̫̺̂̅̄͊̋̄ͤ͛̄ʞ̭̎͗̒ͤ̉̑͘ơ̭͎̪̬̭͛̽ͬ̈̿͐̐̏̈s͓̝̼͕̣ͤ̆͐̈͊͒͂͗̀͞ͅ was Valla.

A̵͚̦͕̟̠̍ͭ͞ȗ̠͔̹̲́ɐ̩ͧ͌̉̾͂ͬ͡úͯ͞ʞ͖̖͎̊͑̊́͑̀̚o̸̖͛̿̿͗̍ͮͪs̲̠͕̻̦͔̞̈́̌̈ͨ would destroy ~~himself~~ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, kind of a short chapter, but a lot happened here. Yes, fully grown silent dragons eat mostly whales (sperm whales to be specific, caught while they dive). Thankfully Terra isn't going to be that big for a few centuries. As you can see, Insane!Anankos’s thought process is a tad self destructive. literally. I’m also taking the meaning of dragon veins to be a bit more literal than the games tend to present them as. 
> 
> Keep in mind at Arete’s surprise at Terra being a dragon: although royalty retain dragon-like traits from the pact, full-on dragons are thought to be virtually extinct.


	4. Hadopelagic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hail Anankos, God of Water, First of the Silent Dragons, Usurper-King of Valla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hadopelagic- (named after the realm of Hades, the underworld in Greek mythology), also known as the hadal zone and trench zone, is the delineation for the deepest trenches in the ocean.
> 
> The Fall of Valla is only a small footnote in a DLC map, which is ridiculous considering how integral it is to the setup of Fate’s story. This is the chapter where the Puking Baby Dragons tag is relevant, so enjoy that i guess?

In spite of the incredible hectic times previously, the past year had been peaceful, if a tad boring, for Queen Arete.

She had returned to Gyges eleven months ago, taking Azura with her; though her daughter was reluctant to leave her new scaly playmate and her uncle. Hydra absolutely adored Azura; Arete found this incredibly adorable, the way a toddler had an inhumanly old dragon wrapped around her finger without even knowing it. Mikoto sent intermittent letters, which were a blessing in the monotony of rulership.

Matsya had gone to visit Glaucon a few months ago, to see his niece and sister-in-law. And he likely needed a break as well, Arete mused, since her husband had graciously taken up her political position while she was taking care of personal business.

Now it was reaching the time of Arete’s turn to visit her family squirreled away in Glaucon. Azura also greatly enjoyed seeing her cousin when she could, and her playmate was getting bigger every day: while previously the size of a new fawn, Terra had since grown to the size of a large dog. And she was never wanting for food it seems: Tethys was surprisingly easy for Terra to beg extra fish off of. That is, when she was not harassing the fish in the garden pond.

Regardless, Arete prepared for her travel to Glaucon with the slick efficiency of one who has repeated the actions many times. Sliding into her saddle with Azura clutched at her front, the queen left with nary a word to the council, for fear that they would host a ridiculous farewell party of some sort. How wasteful.

Though she had tried to leave on good time, she still arrived at the retreat late at night, and simply opened the door (she had the key, of course) and let herself and her daughter into her rooms.

The queen slept the sleep of someone who had spent the better part of the day on pegasusback.

——————

And then promptly woke up to the feeling of something heavy sitting on her gut, the feel of breath on her nose.

She opened her eyes to gaze nose-to-nose at her niece.

Rapidly rolling over in surprise, Arete dislodged Terra, who “Rawrk’d” at the indignity of it, flapping her ungainly wings to regain balance.

“Well” Arete’s voice groaned, muffled by her pillow. “Good morning to you too.”

“Hi.” Terra warbled back.

And then started gagging and coughing tremendously.

Scrambling with the urgency of knowing small children like to swallow things they shouldn’t, the queen pried open her niece’s jaws, careful to avoid the sharp double-rows of teeth, only to find nothing that could be choking the child. Knowing incredibly little about young dragons, she decided to defer to Mikoto and Hydra on this.

“Hydra! Mikoto!” Arete shouted as she tore through the halls to her sister’s (and her sister’s lover’s) quarters. They both looked up from their tea as Arete burst in, breathlessly informing them something was wrong with Terra.

Both were off like a ballista shot, heading to Arete’s rooms as fast as they could. Hydra even left claw marks on a wall where he braced against it to propel himself around the corner.

When Arete caught up with them and emerged into her own room, she saw them, not at all panicked, crouching over a wiggling Terra, Mikoto with a blanket in her arms.

“If you wouldn’t mind explaining to me what is going on, since there certainly seems to be something going on?” Arete probed at their inaction.

“Oh,” Hydra said absentmindedly, all five eyes focused on his child. “She’s making her dragonstone.”

Arete, thinking she should know better about the peculiarities of dragons, still let a flat “What.” escape from her lips, traitors that they were.

“Dragonstones are produced internally, but they have to exit somewhere. So they usually are expelled through the esophagus.”

“She’s going to throw it up.” Mikoto added unhelpfully, sensing her sisters discomfort.

At that, Terra’s gagging reached a peak and then finally stopped, her jaws widening as she vomited a rock.

There was a slight glow masking Terra, and then as suddenly as she wasn’t, Arete was gazing at a human-looking child, gills still present and fluttering and eyes ( _only two, thank the Ancients_ ) staring incredulously at the stone.

She tried to stand before promptly falling on her face.

“You know.” Mikoto mused, watching as Terra stubbornly tried to stand on wobbly legs again. “I think we’ve all been cooped up inside for far too long. Shall we take an outing to a waterside?”

Arete, thinking of the energy both her daughter and Terra had bubbling beneath the surface as only children have, agreed. While Mikoto stowed the blue dragonstone in her pocket and cleaned up the puddle of salt water that had been expelled with the stone, Arete moved to fetch some of Azura’s clothes to dress her niece.

They mounted their pegasi, with Hydra on a kinshi (for some reason the pegasi were too wary of him to touch), Mikoto leading the way, saying she “Knew an excellent spot”.

When the landed at the lakeside, Hydra released a faint noise of comprehension.

“This is where you found me, is it not?”

“It is indeed.” said Mikoto, adding “Although the familiarity was not the primary reason to come here of course. It is a rather nice lake beach.”

Arete refrained from commenting on her sister’s blatant attempt to cover up her inner mushy romantic.

Seeing the water, Azura was already wriggling in her arms to get down; her daughter loved the water, splashing about the shallows as if they welcomed her.

In a way, really they did. The blessing and curse of their bloodline.

Toes digging into the sand, Terra took a few tentative steps before running to join her cousin in the water. She tripped into the shallows, but the effort was applauded. Still very much the swimmer, Terra would bob beneath the water for a while, unhindered by human limitations such as lungs, and pop up in front of her cousin, who would shriek in delight and splash her with water.

It didn’t take very long for Mikoto to fall asleep, leaning against her lover, who watched over their child. Arete nearly resigned to the same temptation, but she had to be careful. Though clear lake-waters were the friends and transports of Vallite royalty, they were still forces of nature that were ruled by none but the gods. There was even, Arete recalled, an enormous lake south of Pixes that had huge, cycling storms gather above it. Thus, she had to watch her child, as accidents happen even in the shallows.

A number of hours passed, and at midday the sun’s heat was beginning to be unbearable. After nudging Mikoto awake and notifying her they probably ought to head home, Arete called for her own child, feeling rather proud when she toddled over without difficulty.

Terra did not.

Calling again and again, neither Mikoto or Arete could coax her out from the lake depths. Hydra volunteered himself before plunging into the water without fear. It took longer than was good for Arete’s nerves, but finally Hydra staggered out of the water, Terra clinging to him.

Arete never got the chance to even open her mouth before Hydra panted “You need to leave now. Now, it must be now, he’s c̛͊ͩͬ̎͐͌̓o͆̒̈͐m̍ͤͣ͗͛͛̿i͝ń̀̒̀gͩ́!”

Startled by the rather incoherent stream of words and the staticky whine in her mind that accompanied it, all the queen could do was sputter out a “What? Who’s coming, how do you know this!”

Eyes skittering over the surface of the lake, Hydra inhaled sharply. “It’s- it’s me. I’m coming. Or at least, the part of me I left behind. After the acolytes died, I tried to leave, take form as my brothers and sisters did. He should have been an empty shell, how does he have a consciousness?”. The rapid fire explanation was delivered at that staccato beats of them running to their mounts.

Both royals stared at the dragon, comprehension dawning.

 ** _Anankos_** stared at them, saying “I̼̼̘̝̙͍͑̍͠’̎ͮ͋̓͐m̳̻̦͔ͧͭ ͖̼̗͂͋̄̾͗̚̚̕s͉͚͖͉̮̅͌͘o͎̤̯̮̭̹̐ͬ͂ͯ͘ͅ ̪̟̥̟̈̅̑ͭ̓ͯ̒s̵͎̠͕̦̟̖͈o̪̖̘ͨͤ͗͌ͩ̓̾r̻̥̯͉͕ͅr̠̩̕y̲͉͓̲͕̙̰̆͆̄ͬ̎̆͞.” as if it was any consolation.

But neither heard him.

Indeed, none could hear anything.

Not the thrashing trees, not the churning lake, not even her own breaths.

The only thing Arete could hear was the ringing of thousands of blades scraping against each other.

 ** _Anankos_** said something that spiked the pain in her skull even higher, whirling to face the lakeside as the water’s surface exploded.

A̵͚̦͕̟̠̍ͭ͞ų͆̔̄ͦɐ̎̊u͙̲̟̹̣̝͌̿̏ʞ̱̼͚̼͈̱ͮͪ͂ͪ̚ͅo̧̟͉̪ͦ̔s̝̒̾ͭ emerged from the lake, front claws tearing valleys into the lakesides, wings collapsing the forests beside him.

His head tilted down from the sky, his voice soundlessly booming “D̈̀̈́̽͊óͭ̂ͦ̄ ̐͊̋̄̎yoͫû͐̔͆̒̄ ̅ͫn̂̌̀͌̿̒ͬo͋̈́ͩt ̓̋͋ͤͧͤr̄̊̂̋͊ë͗ͫ̂ĵ͋ͨ͑̆̄ͪo͋̃̄̍̀ͣ̈́iͣ̆ͣͤc̔̿e?̆͂̓̔ ͦ̚Y̐o͆ͨ́̎̈́ͨ̈́u̎̌͆͛̇ͨr ğ͆̎́̃͗̐o͌̃̿̐ͥͨdͯ̋̄̿̉̾ ͑̓͑ͣͧ͊̚h̋̐ͩ̋̈́a͑s̽̂́ͪ͂͊ͧ ͮr̊͗ě͂t̾̅ͯ̋̈́̎̀u̎r͑͊n͛́ͫ̂ͫ͊̽eͪͪ͒̂̒ͭ͗d!̾!”

It swung towards **_Anankos_** , ignoring the panic of the humans below. “A̷̓̽ͭn͒d̀̚ ̢̓̀̒̎ͦͯ͑yͫ̅̂̎o̾̅̎͛͑̅ͮu!ͮͯ͟ W̸h̅̒̓y͆͑ͨ̀ͨ d̨̀ͤ̀̈͋͑i̋̽ͦ́̎͠dͫ͊̎͡ ̎̋͒̂y̛͋͋ͮ̚ou͒̈́ͧͮ sp͗͛͆l̀̓į̓ť̆̓͒͒͂ ͬͧ͛ͮͪ͛oͥͪ͋ͪ̏̿̑u̡ͧ̊̔͌̋ṙ̿͗͌̓ͫ҉ ̸̌̆̔m͊̇ͣͯ̓҉iͥ͑̇̽͟n̢̂͒d̎,͋ͧ͑̾ͨ̾̍́ ͨ͒so͞ul̒̆̍̍,̵ ̨͒̍̈́̆̈ͪ̔p̄ͤ̓͐̊ǒ͑̓w̔̃̂́er̷?͋ͭ̾ͧ́ͪ”

Ȃ͍̱̱͐͆́́ŭ͚̫̜̯̹̌̃͠ɐ͕̟̖̩̅̐̅̄́͛́u̪̠͍ʞ̏̄̊̒͠o̥͇s̙͆̉́͢ roared wordlessly, the lake evaporating into droplets around him. “̢Ẃe ̶a͠re ̢b́ot̡h bu͟t̕ e͜m͟p͢ty ̷husks͠!” He lamented, unmindful of the human’s bleeding ears and noses below him.

 

“̵̜͕̣̟̗̃ͫ̈̐̍̽̓̈́̉̋̈́̋͞Ǐ̜͚̱̬͕̘̗̍͑͑ͭ̌ ̺̩w̞͎͕ͥͣḭ͉̻̞͖̪͍̅͢l̞̔̒l̩̹̪̦͓̖̓ͫ̋́ͭ̽ͮ ͚̩̝̲̹̖͌̈́ͯͤͨ͘t̗̦̭̭̓̅ͯ̉ͣa̘̻ͭͨ̓̊ͯk̡̠͇̮̣͔ͤ͛͒ͦ̾̄̏ę̃ͫ͑̿̍̇̿ ͉̠̫ͨb̜̌̑͛̉ͤa̫̜̦̩̻̯͋͌̿c͙̜͎̞̖̣ͦ͛kͩ̽͋ ҉̫͍̪̥͈͍̙w̩̜͓̩̖̭h͍̘̭̟ͧa̘̒͒͗ͫt͐͠ ̥̙̬ͪ͌̔̚͡ǐ͔̣̩̲̽ͅs͖̠̞ ̳͖̥͕̗̈́ͧ̑́͒̅̽͘mͧi̷̦͍̜̙̯͚͎͗n̵̙̦̤͇͕̠̩ͬ̒͑̊̀e͍͚.̨̥̻̭̪̎ ̫̯̼̭̤͋Ẅ̛͈̲͚̞͌̾ͥ̐e̶̠̙̠ͬͯ ̺́w̭͈̪̹ͮͣ̎i͙̯̭̥ͧ̃l̜̫̗̙̭̙̝ͦ̂̓̓̓ͫͨl̫̫̭͙̼̃ ͖ͣ̓͌̀͘b̩̩̖͔͎̖͎͗̅̓ͧͫ͑́e͔̜͋̍͞ ̨͖̜̫̍͗̾ͪ͋W͗͒̉͏͓̭̹H̴ͩͪͮ͌ͬ̑̑O͙͓̠̣̩͖L͏̤͈̩̹̮͚E͔ͩ̑̓ͅ ̭̮̤͍̗o̻̖͇͍̻̹n͔͉̜̭͈͂ͧ̀c̺̰̪̽ͦͬ͊é̅̆͌ ̸̝̻͖m̑̐҉͓̭̮̝͚̥o͙̥̙̠̳͔̬ͦ̋͂͒̇̐͞r͉̮̝̙ͨ̍ͪ͛͛̚e̦̩͕̭͎͕͕̊̓͆̆ͪ!̄ͯͪͬͬ̉”

 

the ground beneath began to widen into river-sized cracks, the thundering of churning earth accompanied by the whirling sound of an activated Dragon Vein.

 ** _Anankos_** shouted “G̮ͪ́̒o̫̪̻̜ͦ͋̅!̺ͯ̎̐̔͠ ͉̫͎̤̾ͥͦ͋Ű̂̒͋̅̋̋͏̭̟͉͍s̲̩ͮ̔e̬͌̈ͫ͛̊̾́ ̤͈̥̺̐ͯ͘t̨̫̞̜̬̤̹̽̋ͤͭ̃̾h̲̠͉̹̹͌ͣ̈ͦ͐̓e̠̍ͩ̑ͨ͂̑ ̲̳͛͐ͧͥ̈́͑ͩ͝ͅw̰̮ͥ͂̐͆a̧̙̪̮̪̞̺̪͂̉̋t̖̺̝͎̪̦ͨ̏́e̴̹̻̤͍̯̥ͯ̈̆̍ͪͭr͎̲̮ͦ́̓ͯ͗ͥͅs̼͈̯ͧ̇̏!̄̃̊̆҉ ͉̙͇̩̞͙͛̈ͣͧT͈̲̚h̗̱̤ͥ̋͋ͦ͂̎̏ͅe̶͖̩̖͉͉͗̂̃̌ ̗̻̱̻̚s͙͖̮̩̙ͬu̅͋r̝̫̋͋͗ͨ́f̱̖͖͗̄a̱̰̐̉͋̐ͨ̎͘ć̘̺͊̍̈́e̝̘̮̮̪͚͙͝!̨̼̹͓ͫͮͩ͆ͯ͂̚”, snapping Arete and Mikoto out of their silent terror. They ran, fast, towards their mounts. And against her better judgement, Arete looked back.

 ** _Anankos_** was off the ground, water swirling about, a crown of tiny trees circling his head.

Arete knew what the Dragon’s Breath looked like.

She looked away.

Though not watching, the queen could _feel_ the particles rent from the force of the blow. A̵͚̦͕̟̠̍ͭ͞u̙̳͙̱̖͊ͮ͆ͪ̓ͦ́͢ɐ̧̨̉͒̽҉͖͈̗͔̯ų̛̫̺̂̅̄͊̋̄ͤ͛̄ʞ̭̎͗̒ͤ̉̑͘ơ̭͎̪̬̭͛̽ͬ̈̿͐̐̏̈s͓̝̼͕̣ͤ̆͐̈͊͒͂͗̀͞ͅ roared in pain, causing a renewed flow of blood from her nostrils and ears. Both royals mounted their beasts, Arete grateful for her old Falcoknight training allowing her use in-flight hand-signs to gesture that Mikoto go with Terra one way, herself and Azura a different way. Mikoto nodded before kneeing the kinshi as fast as it could go. Arete herself yanked her pegasus to the opposite direction, catching sight of a geyser of water the size of a mountain before flying across the void between the now-floating islands of Valla.

Her pegasus sweating and panting beneath her, Arete started the words of the royal’s transportation spellsong as soon as she saw the lake. Plunging into it from the sky, Arete had no destination in mind, just the surface. Nohr, Hoshido, anywhere but here.

Keeping Azura clutched close, Arete ascended from the lake-portal and heaved herself onto dry land. Gasping, wet hair plastered to her head and tanged in her horns, she remembered.

They were still there.

Isolde, Tethys, the smudgy guard she never bothered to learn the name of. The entire court and their families. Her Four: Sho, Moriae, Norn, Ramiel. Matsya, Matsya, _Matsya_.

All of them, crushed or drowned or fallen into the void. If the dragon-god wanted them dead, what could humans, unempowered by the great weapons of old, do against something so huge?

Perhaps it was kinder that she started to slip into unconsciousness, as she saw the blurry outline of booted feet, a hand shaking her, a faint “Ma’am, ma’am are you alright?” before blackness.

Arete slept, and did not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tori, who plays idea ping-pong all the time with me. Take note of Terra not surfacing, it becomes important later. Sho is also an important name to remember.  
> That’s it folks! you got any questions, head over to my tumblr @anankos and pester me.


End file.
